It's subtle, but it's enough for her to notice something has changed. Elizabeth flicks her gaze back to Will, all wide, dark eyes and injured pride, and what she finds on his face soon has her focusing stubbornly on something over his left shoulder. All traces of surprised delight and what little hope she allows herself to feel in her weaker moments disappears, leaving her face as impassive as ever it has been on this journey.

"Yes," she snaps quietly. "I can't imagine you would take pleasure in her suffering."

Sometimes, when her heart is especially sore, Elizabeth forgets this is mostly a mess of her own making.